


fall, everything, fall

by obsessedmak



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP
Genre: Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 14:34:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15536379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessedmak/pseuds/obsessedmak
Summary: One moment Yamada is spraying yellow paint on closed shop doors and the next moment they’re running from the police- again.(One moment it’s Yamada smiling at him, cheeky and proud. The next moment he’s breathless.)





	fall, everything, fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yellowdreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowdreamer/gifts).



> trust me when i say this is everything i usually don't write so it’s been such a challenge.
> 
> special thanks and tons of love to my favorite betas A and S who helped me shape this into a passable thing.
> 
> recipient-san, you requested a fic set in the hyyh universe so you know what you signed up for. 
> 
> i know this is supposed to be anonymous but i hope you know i wrote this for you. none of this is a coincidence. ♡

 

 **before**.

Yamada sees red on his hands and his heart thrums.

The paint will take forever to wash out again but he doesn’t mind. He wipes some of it on the flap of his rucksack full of spray cans.

He can hear someone faintly humming and reaches for his things.

Even after years of having Yuto watch his back, he still gets ready to run.

“It’s just me,” Yuto says, finally coming into view- lollipop in his mouth, cap covering his eyes. “Nice work,” The taller boy adds, examining the words Yamada created. “More illuminati shit.”

“It is not Illuminati shit,” Yamada says, eyeing the words he’s sprayed onto the bus stop wall. The words read ‘I’m Fine’ upright but ‘Save Me’ upside-down.

“Illuminati shit,” Yuto repeats, bending his back to read the words the other way.

“You’re the worst,” Yamada says, standing up to take the lollipop from Yuto’s mouth and replace it with his lips.

He tastes sweet and Yamada wants to ruin him.

 

\---

 

The first time they meet, Yamada jumps at the sight of Yuto. Barely twenty, scrawny, smoke curling around his mouth.

“Don’t worry,” Yuto says. “I won’t rat you out. We rebels have to stick together.”

Yamada chuckles at that, spray can in his hand. “I’m not a rebel. I’m an artist that just doesn’t want to go home.”

“I don’t want to go home either,” Yuto says. “Guess I’ll be your guardian angel.”

 

\---

 

It happens so quickly.

One moment Yamada is spraying yellow paint on closed shop doors and the next moment they’re running from the police- _again_.

(One moment it’s Yamada smiling at him, cheeky and proud. The next moment he’s breathless.)

Yamada likes the chase and stops to waggle his tongue at the cop chasing them.

Yuto can’t help laughing as he tugs Yamada’s hand so they can hide in the maze of side streets ahead.

The thing is, Yuto’s been running away his whole life. Away from his hometown, from school, from poverty.

But with Yamada, wind in their hair, trouble at their heels, Yuto actually feels like he’s running towards something good.

 

\---

 

“Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me,” Yamada demands, pulling Yuto closer to him.

The adrenaline of not getting caught always gets him worked up.

Yamada loves the way Yuto holds him firmly even when he’s this desperate, loves the way Yuto lays him down gently onto the pile of blankets. Loves how Yuto snaps his hips and even if his body is on fire, he feels like he’s being cleansed, not burned.

 

\---

 

They’re lying on the concrete of an empty parking lot. Yamada’s head is on Yuto’s arm.

“I love you,” Yamada whispers. Yuto smiles, eyes still fixed on the stars.

Yuto loves nights like this.

They spend half of their days running and yelling and starting a ruckus to avoid their real problems. Yuto’s glad they’ve never run away from each other. He half-expected them to break instead of bloom when they realized their feelings were more than friendship.

“Stay with me,” Yamada says, nuzzling closer.

“Got your back,” Yuto says, kissing Yamada’s forehead.

If Yuto could control time, he would play this moment on loop. He would keep these memories intact, unscathed.

 

\---

 

Sometimes their midnight escapades aren’t enough.

“You all right?” Yuto asks when Yamada shows up at his makeshift house before dawn. He notes the way Yamada’s eyes darts around, sees the bruising on his shoulder.

Yamada shakes his head. “Can we- can we go on a field trip today?”

“We should clean that wound first,” Yuto replies, already taking out the box of bandages he has prepared.

“No one’s booked at the tattoo parlor today and it’s my day off at the gas station,” Yuto says. “Perfect timing.”

“It always is with you,” Yamada says as he looks up at him. Yuto sees a whirlwind in those usually bright and mischievous eyes. He braces himself for the storm.

 

\---

 

Yuto and Yamada have a list of places they go to- the abandoned cargo storage by the train tracks where Yuto lives or the small pier where they sit by the wall and listen to sound of the waves.

Today, it’s the drained swimming pool by the woods. Yuto drives by the beach with the car he borrowed and parks just at the edge of the woods. Yamada is silent the entire time.

On good days, Yamada makes Yuto sit on the tiled floor of the empty pool so he can spray paint wings beside him.

On better days, Yamada takes naps on a beat-up mattress, soaking in the sun and waking up to Yuto above him, haloed by the afternoon light.

“Tell me again about this tattoo,” Yamada says, finally breaking his silence.

Yuto glances as the dark flying bird on his arm, knows Yamada is looking for a distraction.

“The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must first destroy a world.” Yuto quotes.

“I don’t want to be the apocalypse,” Yamada says.

Yuto sits beside Yamada, grass and flowers tickling their heels.

“You do what you must to survive,” Yuto replies. They get like this sometimes. Poetic, vague, tiptoeing lines that they don’t dare cross.

 

\---

 

They stay until it’s dark, close together over the blankets at the back of the pickup.

Yuto kisses Yamada’s hands and he hears Yamada hold his breath.

“I’m so afraid,” Yamada whispers, eyes closed and hands trembling.

“Of what?” Yuto replies, entangling their fingers. “Yamada, look at me please.”

“I’m afraid I’ll be like my father,” he confesses. “That there will be a day I snap and break everything. That I’ll hurt the people I love.”

Yuto holds Yamada’s gaze. “You’re the most gentle person I know.”

Yamada chuckles. “That’s a lie.”

“The only marks you leave are paint stains on my shirt and ominous quotes on empty bus stops,” Yuto continues.

Yamada smiles, but he feels a tear slip out.

“You're all I have,” Yuto says breaking the silence, briefly kissing Yamada on the cheek.

Yamada knows this, of course. Yamada has a father he hates and a house he'll never call home but for Yuto it's different.

“You're bratty, stupidly brave, creative, surprisingly sweet. I have never cared this much for anyone in my li-”

“Where are you going with this?” Yamada interrupts, hiding his blush.

“I feel like the ocean and you're my moon,” Yuto says plainly. “I don't know how to thrive without your pull.”

“Poetic sap,” Yamada replies.

Yuto holds him tighter, back against the stars. All he needs is Yamada’s soft light.

 

\---

 

Yuto sees the signs before it happens. He counts down the days before Yamada finally breaks.

He plans it all out in advance. He works double shifts, sells everything he can spare until he can afford train tickets to nowhere. Yuto’s been running away all his life. He should be used to this.

He keeps it secret because Yamada would scold him if he found out. Yuto makes an unsaid promise to run with him until the edge of the earth because anywhere with him is home.

He allows himself a few more carefree memories.

One last trip to the abandoned pier where Yamada likes to climb ruins up and up and up, closer to the sun.

One last cheap picnic by the park they go to, peach-flavored beer and convenience store sushi and his hands in Yamada’s hair.

One last kiss by the train tracks. One last taste of both reckless abandon and an anchored soul.

 

 

 

 **the middle**.

Yamada sees red on his hands and his heart aches.

No matter how hard he tries, the blood doesn't wash out.

All he hears is the ringing in his ears and the loud knocks on the door.

 

\---

 

Yamada tells his story in fragments at the police station.

Drunk father. Abused sister. Broken bottles.

Red, red, red.

_I swear it was self-defense. Please, I need to make one call._

The world he knows is gone.

 

\---

 

Yuto’s inking a smeraldo flower on a client.

“What does it mean?” he asks the girl in the parlor.

“The truth untold. Secrets. Living with regrets,” she replies quietly.

He hums as the buzzing needle paints blue tips on white petals.

What he doesn’t hear is the buzzing phone in his bag.

Later, when Yamada isn’t at his doorstep, Yuto knows it’s happened.

He grabs his things- and as always- runs. He tries to call Yamada but gets a dead dial tone.

_No no no._

When he gets to the house, Yamada’s gone. The police refuse to let him see anyone.

He realizes he’s missed his chance. That in his fear of asking Yamada to run away with him, his fear of accusing Yamada of being anything but gentle, he’s lost him.

The world he knows is gone.

 

\---

 

All Yuto has is the remains of his old life packed into one shoddy backpack and one folder of cash.

All Yuto loves is behind bars for years and out of his reach.

 

\---

 

Yuto blames himself. He pushes to see Yamada for months but it’s done.

Eventually, he decides to leave. The entire town feels too loud and too empty at the same time.

The night he leaves he has a red spray can in his hand and a patched up heart.

He sprays a big red X on the spot they met. X on the spot under the bridge where they'd cool off. X on the parking signs..

(He sprays one sloppy _wait for me; i'll come back for you_ on the flimsy wall of his now hollow home.)

He throws his phone into the sea because he can't stand the weight in his pocket, can't stand the way he waits for someone that won't call, (can’t stand the guilt).

He takes the first bus to somewhere else, anywhere else.

 

 

 

**after.**

Yamada sees red in the sky and his bones feel heavy.

Another sunset, another day done.

All he hears is silence.

 

\---

 

Yuto gets off the bus and is hit with a wave of heat. Even with his light shirt and cap, the sun feels too harsh on his skin.

Three years in his hometown, all mountain and cool air, has changed the things he’s used to.

He checks into a motel with prices low enough because of whispers that someone lit a room on fire. Haunted.

Yuto thinks it’s fitting. He feels like a ghost visiting a life he once knew. More than anything, he hopes Yamada is still out there.

 

\---

 

The years Yuto is gone are a blur to Yamada. Jail cell. Scratches on the wall. Dry food. Numbness.

A few months after the first year, he’s allowed one call every month and he dials the same number and leaves a voicemail to a number that’s dead.

Two years later, he’s run through every emotion he has. He allows himself one last try at penance before he let’s go.

(“Hi, it’s me. I don’t know where you are right now but I miss you always.”

Yamada takes a deep breath before the dive.

“I think- I think I understand why you left. I forgive you, you know? I’m not sure you’ll ever forgive me but I think I’m starting to forgive myself.

“I just wanted to let you know, with you I had the most beautiful moments in life. You were a golden boy in this rotting world. I hope to see you again- in this life or the next.”

Yamada holds his breath. He has so many things left to say but he’s tired of the weight in his chest and the memories he can’t relive.

“Goodbye, Yuto.”)

Yamada never calls again.

 

\---

 

Yuto sees graffiti at the bus stop and his heart almost stops.

He sees the bright flash of red spray paint and _Save Me / I’m Fine_.

Suddenly, the buzz of cicadas seem louder.

He sees another flash of paint on a streetlamp, another one by an abandoned wall. He’s running before he’s aware of it. He’s dashing through the streets, past a painted house of cards on the overpass, past the butterfly on a wall.

He hears the sound of a train.

There’s a boy with light brown hair near the tracks picking flowers.

He looks up and his eyes meet Yuto.

Suddenly the summer feels like spring.

 

 


End file.
